Just a Little Pinch
by ohmyloki
Summary: The morning after some drunken shenanigans (Thor's fault). Darcy grows an extra hand and tries to solve the Mystery of the Tartan, and Steve gets one up on Tony.


**A/N: This is just something I had rolling around in my head. I dunno. The original thought came from a personal experience (kinda sorta, though no alcohol or boys were involved) and something else almost entirely found it's way onto the computer screen. I don't know what this is, to be honest. There's fluff.**

Darcy wanted off the ride. She held her breath and shut her eyelids even tighter, the twists and turns making her stomach flip and her brain scramble. When she felt it was finally safe exhaled she was startled to feel the press of fabric against her mouth as it warmed to her breathe. Her eyebrows pinched together, a stab of pain lancing through her forehead with the action, and slit her eyelids open and saw plaid. A vast, never ending ocean of plaid.

"Mmph?"

Deciding the Mystery of the Tartan could be solved later, Darcy closed her eyes again and put all of her resolve into falling back into blissful unconsciousness, away from the amusement park that had set up shop in her head.

* * *

The next time Darcy became aware of her own existence she found herself in the same position as before, face smashed partially into the pillow, her plaid-covered left arm slung above her head while her right arm dangled lazily off the edge of the bed. She took the risk and opened her eyes again. A flood of panic coursing through her body as she wondered, horrified, when she had grown an extra hand.

The world righted itself and logic prevailed as she traced the not-her-hand to a wrist, up to an extremely buff arm, and then to a body laying next to her. _Clearly_, she thought, working around the Avengers had done a number on her perception of reality.

Before she had the chance to shift the focus of her panic from the fact that while, no, she hadn't sprouted a new appendage over night to the fact that said appendage seemed to belong to someone laying in bed with her and she couldn't remember how he got there, the hand-haver started to move. He was shifting and turning like a slumbering giant finally coming to life. Which, once she got a decent look at him, was a fairly apt description.

Too late to pretend to still be asleep, bright blue and rather sleepy eyes flickered through a range of emotions she could quite easily classify as skirting the edges of 'flabbergasted' before they zeroed in on her own like she was the answer to life's mysteries.

"Darcy?"

Her name in that voice caused something in her brain to snap into action. A jolt of adrenaline shot through her as her mind went to work in some sort of sudden-death overtime. She clutched the gaping neck of the too big button-up shirt closed as she scrambled to sit up, pressing her back against the headboard of what she now recognized as her own bed, as far away from Steve as she could get on the double bed. Unfortunately, Steve being Steve, 'as far away as she could get' was only about two inches further than she had already been.

"Oh my god," she said, breathlessly, the words pressed up against each other, filling the scant space between them.

"That's... that's my shirt." His eyebrows furrowed and she could tell he was struggling to make sense of the situation.

She looked down and let out a small sound. Yes, she was indeed wearing one of Steve's shirts. One of his plaid, vintage-looking, grandfatherly shirts that she enjoyed needling him for when they ran into each other at the tower which, lately, had been quite often. While she was busy looking down, once again contemplating the Mystery of the Tartan, Steve had moved and was now sitting on the edge of the bed, side to her, feet planted firmly on the floor. Completely shirtless, he was hunched over and rubbing his face with both hands. Darcy, never one to let a good sight go unappreciated, watched in a blissful haze as the muscles in his arms and side expanded and contracted with the movement, a graceful dance of hot-man anatomy, his golden skin rippling in the sunlight that just so conveniently filtered in between her mostly drawn curtains. She shook her head, trying to clear out the romance novel that had started to write itself in her brain. He ran one hand through his hair before taking a deep breath and turning his head toward her.

"What happened last night?"

Her eyebrows shot up at his question. This was wrong, so very wrong.

"What?" Her voice cracked, either because of the shock or because she had never been a morning person. Though, whether or not it was actually morning had yet to be determined.

"I asked if you knew what happened last night." He spoke slowly and eyed her carefully, probably wondering if a few IQ points had managed to dribble out her ear overnight. She needed to start stringing together coherent sentences, like now.

"No, no. I know what you asked. My concern is that it seems as if Captain America, Mr. Photographic Memory _doesn't _remember."

His cheeks flushed slightly at that and he shook his head.

"I've got... bits and pieces. Flashes of things. But right now I can't tell if they're real or if I just had a very vivid dream last night."

Darcy moved to cross her arms over her chest but a flair of pain caught her off guard and she gasped, grabbing at her breasts.

"Oh, shit."

"Darcy?" Steve looked at her, "What is it?"

Affection swelled in her chest at the look of concern in his eyes but the pain that had flared up near the same spot kept her attention elsewhere. She shot up and out of the bed and ran across through the door to her bathroom slamming it shut and locking it behind her, only belatedly thankful of the fact that she was at least wearing underwear. A few deep breaths later, Darcy stepped in front of the mirror to unbutton her shirt.

The light over the cabinet was harsh when she pulled the chain, bright enough for Darcy to see spots for a moment as she lifted the hem of the shirt, trying to find the cause of her earlier pain. Only- wait. Those weren't spots. Those were reflections. Reflections coming off the very shiny, very _new, _pieces of metal that pierced through either of her nipples. Her mouth gaped open. Those were _definitely _not there yesterday. What on earth had they gotten themselves into last night?

"Darcy? Are you alright?"

Darcy jumped slightly at the sudden, if polite, knocking on the door and muffled voice.

She paused for a moment, continuing to stare at the jewelry embedded into her chest, before snapping her jaw shut and straightening her- _Steve's_- shirt out. She covered as much of herself as possible before walking over to the door and taking a deep breath, unlocking the handle and pulling it open. She caught Steve mid-knock and had a moment to wonder when armpit hair had become so attractive to her. Unable to help herself, as usual, her eyes flickered across the broad expanse of raw, naked masculinity in front of her. His chest was just under eye level and-

"Hey," She drew out the word, "You too?"

Steve lowered his arm and gave her the universal, "What the hell?" look and she could see her personal stock value plummeting in his eyes. That red arrow just going down, down, down. One of these times she would open her mouth and something sensible would work it's way out. Instead she settled for waving vaguely at the two firm and delicious planks of meat in front of her. He looked down and she could see the precise moment that comprehension dawned on him. The air left his lungs and Darcy begun to worry as his face became a not so attractive shade of pale before it flamed back into color, the blush spreading up his cheeks and down his neck. And boy, was that a sight she would never forget.

"That," he paused, "was definitely not there yesterday."

"Nope."

"How-" He sputtered for a moment.

"Not a clue."

"When?"

"Well, not to be Captain Obvious here, Cap, but we must have gotten them last night. Though, with as drunk as we must have been I'm surprised we got service anywhere." She shook her head despite the small smile that played her lips and then thought for a moment, "Yours doesn't hurt at all?"

He pressed a couple of fingers to his nipple and shook his head.

"Right. Super soldier, super healing. Lucky."

His head snapped up suddenly.

"You said 'we' earlier." He was missing the proper intonation but Darcy heard the implicit question nevertheless.

"Yeah," she nodded, "only I was apparently twice as impetuous. Always was a sucker for symmetry, I suppose."

Darcy shrugged rather nonchalantly and noticed the tips of Steve's ears turn an utterly adorable shade of red, matching the rest of his face, and before she could stop herself, she reached up and flicked the small ball on one end of the barbell.

"Guess we're a matching set, Cap." She grinned and moved to squeeze by him through the doorway only Steve didn't make way. She glanced up at his face and saw he had closed his eyes, clearly out of sorts. She lifted a hand to his bicep and touched him lightly. For his benefit, of course. A comforting touch. Not at all a way for Darcy to cop a feel of all that bulging muscle. Nope, not at all.

"Are _you _okay? I mean I know that, uh, this is probably a kind of new thing for you but it's pretty popular. Piercings, that is. Not just ears. But everywhere." His eyes remained shut and her mouth kept going, "It's not necessarily a sex thing, you know? It's just a... thing. That people do. I mean yeah, I guess it can be a sex thing but it's-" She couldn't decide where to go from there so she simply tacked on, "...sorry"

His eyes slitted open to look down at her.

"Why are you sorry?" The only word that Darcy could think of to describe his voice was 'husky'.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. With the, you know," she waved her hand around a bit, "sex talk."

Steve shook his head and straightened up, rubbing his brow.

"I really don't understand where people are getting this notion that people didn't have sex in the 40's." From husky to whiny, Darcy thought, that's quite a feat.

Steve turned around and walked back over to the bed, sitting down. Darcy took a moment to appreciate the way his pajama pants hung low on his hips before following him out, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, torn between sitting on the bed next to him and keeping a safe distance away from him. In their current states of undress she wasn't sure if she could be held entirely liable for her actions. She settled for perching stiffly, posture perfect, on the trunk she had placed at the foot of her bed.

"Movies."

He tilted his head towards her in curiosity. She shrugged.

"Movies, television shows, books," she spoke softly, "I mean, it didn't even really become acceptable to show married couples sleeping in the same bed 'til the sixties, I think."

Steve let out a huff of breath that could've been laughter.

"Things have obviously changed since then," he sounded almost bitter and suddenly Darcy felt sad for the man. Sure, she had known that all of his friends were gone and he had essentially pulled an H.G. Wells but she had never given the thought much more than a cursory glance. What must it be like for a man who cared so much about the welfare of others? What must it be like for him to have lost everyone who had ever meant anything to him? To be thrust into a world that was both so familiar and so alien to him?

As silly as it was, Darcy remembered the time she had gotten lost when she was a child. On vacation with her parents in a different country, something down the road had caught her attention. She had wandered off. The bright colors and exaggerated movements tunneling her attention like expected of a child. When the amusement of the distraction had worn off, little Darcy realized that her parents were no longer at her side. She had looked and looked but couldn't see them anywhere, there were too many people and they were all so much _taller_ than her. When her gaze landed on a familiar sign, she didn't even hesitate to run towards the it. She entered the store and looked around, feeling some semblance of 'safe' when she recognized the general layout of the place her mom had taken her to so often back home. It wasn't until she got close to one of the workers and realized that they were speaking a different language, that absolutely none of the faces around her were in any way familiar, that the feeling of complete and utter hopelessness settled back into her stomach.

Darcy knew that this was probably only a laughably miniscule fraction of what Steve felt. Her parents had found her not even 15 minutes later and suddenly she was safe and felt at home again. Steve, though, he would never be able to go home. To wake up in a world where everything looked so familiar but was just so wrong? Darcy had a hard time imagining something worse.

"Yeah, I suppose they have." She said softly, unsure of how to proceed. Neither of them had quite yet acknowledged the lingering air of _awkward _that hung over them and now Darcy was battling her inner instinct to protect a man twice her size who probably didn't even need it.

"You know it isn't- wasn't," he sighed and started over, "Back _then _people weren't nearly as innocent as it's all portrayed now. I mean, it was wartime. Fellas leaving their girls not knowing if they'd ever see each other again. Men wanting to prove their worth, ladies wanting to, ah, help the cause."

Darcy nodded, able to tell that Steve was a bit flustered speaking so frankly to her.

"We just, we weren't so open about it. Sex is meant for the participants, not for an audience. People flaunting it where anyone can see... it takes some getting used to."

She was tempted to comment on the fact that if he thought American media was going to take some getting used to, he was going to be extremely shocked by other, more sexually liberated, countries when a thought occurred to her.

"Wait a second! You said 'we'!" Her eyes lit up as she turned to face him. The red that had mostly seeped away now returned but only tinged his cheeks slightly. He glanced over at her, watching through the corner of his eye before shrugging.

"I had a dame- a lady. She may have been more actively involved on the warfront than most but I was being sent on a lot of dangerous missions. And every one of them, well, there was no guarantee I'd be coming back."

"Oh," Darcy snorted, "and here's Tony going around calling you 'Captain Red, White and Blue Balls' all the time. Man, if he found out, can you imagine the look on his face?" She grinned at Steve, who gave her a little smile back but shook his head.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything. I'm still of the belief it's a private matter who I did or did not sleep with. Even if it means dealing with Stark yukking it up."

"Alright, Cap. Your virtue or, you know, lack thereof, is perfectly safe with me."

"Steve."

"Hmm?"

"Please call me Steve. I think we're on a first name basis, in light of the situation." He waved his hand in reference to their clothing.

"Ah, sorry," It was her turn for pink cheeks.

"You seem to apologize an awful lot around me." He noted, slightly amused.

"Yeah, sor-" she stopped herself and laughed, "I guess I feel like I say the wrong thing around you a lot. My mouth tends to get ahead of my brain. But, to be honest, if I actually gave my brain a chance to think before I spoke, you'd probably never hear a peep out of me."

"I like it," he said quickly and she felt her eyebrows shoot up, "I mean it. So many people speak like it's a performance. Like their words have been rehearsed. It feels... wrong. Half-truths and riddles and all sorts of unnecessary bells and whistles. It's refreshing, talking to you. I like it," He paused and added on quietly, ducking his head just a little bit, "I like you."

Inopportune as ever, Darcy was struck by the ridiculousness of the situation and started to giggle. She couldn't remember ever having a stranger morning. To go from talking about nipple piercings, to wartime romances, to Steve telling her that he liked her and boy, was that last thought going to be turned over and over in her mind. She looked over at Steve, a confused and slightly crestfallen expression on his face.

"Oh, no! I'm not laughing at you! I'm sorry but this is just the strangest morning," she trailed off, sobering a bit, "I like you too, Steve."

He smiled at her again, before a new thought flickered across his mind.

"We didn't," he struggled to find the right phrase, "_do _anything last night, did we?"

That had been one of Darcy's first concern upon waking up half naked in man's shirt, but the distinct lack of 'freshly fucked by an American icon' feeling in her nether regions told her a different story.

"Nope. At least not _all _the things," her answer was so full of confidence that Steve gave her a look before she continued, "I'm a girl, we have ways of knowing," she paused again before asking, "So, you don't remember anything at all?"

"I've got some brief flashes. There was definitely a lot of laughing," he smiled, "Remind me to never drink anything given to me by Thor again, would you?"

"Soldier, you have my word on that. Trust me, the next time we throw a shindig to celebrate Thor's earthly arrival, I give you my solemn oath to prevent any drunken shenanigans on your part," She turned towards him and stuck out her left arm, little finger extended, "Pinky swear."

He grinned at her and wrapped his own around hers. The warmth from that little contact radiated up through Darcy's arm like a flame, Steve turned towards her then, obviously wanted to say something else.

"What?"

"I, uh, I remember a couple of other things."

"Oh?" Darcy put her arm down, their hands still joined at their pinkies, resting on the bed.

"We may not have done 'all the things' as you said," and there was that wonderful pink hue on his cheeks again, "but we may have done some of the things."

"Really?" Darcy's voice wasn't usually that octave, was it?

"I remember a lot of laughing," he paused, "and a lot of kissing."

"Oh." Well, wasn't that a crying shame?

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why is it a crying shame?" Whoops. Had she said that outloud? Her face heated as Steve stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

"I just meant..." Oh, god. How was she supposed to say this without completely embarrassing herself? Well. Steve said he liked her lack of filter. He was about to see it in action again, "I just meant that it's a crying shame 'cause it's not everyday a girl gets a chance to spend the night making out with Captain America and, woe is me, I can't seem to remember any of it." She risked a quick glance at him before busying herself with tracing the seams of the wood flooring with her eyes.

There was a moment of silence where she worried she had possibly ruined the friendship that they had been slowly cultivating over months of small conversation held in Jane's lab and during their semi-frequent run-ins at the tower's coffee shop. The fear was quelled when she felt him detangle his pinky from hers only to cover her hand completely with his own.

"Darcy." His voice was firm, she looked over, and his face was both imploring and determined. She raised her eyebrows in response.

"I said I like you." His eyes bore into hers, freezing her on the spot. Unable to move even if she wanted to.

"As in..."

"As in, do you really think I actually belong anywhere near the science labs? Stark would sooner eat his own arm off than ask me for help even if it's just as an errand boy. As in, caffeine has no effect on me, so I don't drink coffee. At all. As in, I'd love to take you on a real date. Preferably a date that didn't end with us waking up together half naked with short-term amnesia."

Darcy's heart was hammering away in her chest, she felt like she was all nerves and self-consciousness and other things that were so incredibly unlike her. She scrambled for the first words to come to mind.

"I'll agree with you on the amnesia count, but the half-naked bit..."

Steve raised an eyebrow at her before responding, "Definitely negotiable," the grin he gave her verged on dirty and didn't that just make Darcy's brain screech to a halt as he continued, "Darcy, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, so large it hurt her cheeks.

"Duh."

He chuckled, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. Goosebumps raced up her arm.

"So, um... speaking of the amnesia thing." Unable to help herself, as always.

"Yes?"

"I'd really like to know what it's like to kiss Captain America and remember it."

He held her gaze for a moment, considering something.

"I'm only Captain America in the suit, but I can definitely show you what it's like to kiss Steve Rogers."

"Even better," she grinned.

His hand closed around her wrist and pulled. She found herself sitting on the bed next to him, sides pressed close. He let go of her wrist and brought his hand up to her face, his fingers sifting into the hair above her ear, thumb rubbing along her cheekbone. She tilted her head up, accepting the invitation and looking into his blue eyes. She'd never noticed the flecks of gold around his pupil before, or the darker ring of blue encompassing the iris. She saw the way his eyes crinkled at the sides with his smile. She saw how his lashes, though light in color, were incredibly thick. And then she saw nothing as instinct took over and she shut her eyes, the warm press of his lips against hers.

Kissing Steve, in a way, was like her earlier recollection of being lost in a familiar setting. Something she had done so often before, something she knew how to do, yet it was completely and utterly novel and foreign. It was exciting and it was comforting. It was also terrifying, terrifying in the best of ways. She knew Steve didn't do things halfassed. Once he had his eyes on the goal, he didn't give up, and this time the goal was her. Steve wanted _her_. She knew it would be hard, seeing the way Pepper was when Tony went off to save the world, but she knew it would be worth it.

He kissed her slowly at first, his free hand resting in his lap, but when Darcy bit lightly on his bottom lip the kiss shifted into something a little bit messier and a lot more passionate as his hands moved to her waist and lifted her as if she were a feather and settled her onto his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. Then his hands were everywhere, rubbing up and down her back, and delving into her hair to deepen the kiss, tongue lapping against tongue, teeth nibbling and scraping. When his hands came to a rest on her hips, under the shirt, his fingers pressing marks into her pale skin. Darcy, ever the opportunist, released her own grip on the short hairs on the back of his head and ran her hands up the broad, defined chest pressed against her.

She scraped her nails against the indentations made by his abs, dragging them slowly up until her right hand reached his nipple. She flicked the metal bar again and Steve groaned into her mouth, involuntarily thrusting up and pulling her down to grind her against him. She smiled into the kissed and rubbed her thumb across the nipple again, taking immense pleasure in his loss of control.

As if this action had granted permission, one of Steve hands snuck up the bare skin of her side, his thumb rubbing the crease under the weight of her breast for a moment before finally cupping it in his hand. It was Darcy's turn to moan, though it ended up being a soft sigh that turned into a hiss when Steve's finger ran over her nipple. He gasped, jerking his hand back and pulling away from the kiss.

"I'm sorry!" He managed to get out between ragged breaths. Darcy winced at the remaining pain.

"Don't worry about it. I'm no super soldier so it looks like it's going to take a few weeks for these babies to heal."

"We should probably slow down anyway," He chuckled and Darcy sighed but admitted to herself that he was probably right. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, "You're going to keep them in, then?"

"Hell yeah! I went through the pain, even if I don't remember it! Never let it be said that Darcy doesn't own up to her drunken shenanigans!"

"Good."

"Really?"

He nodded and gave her a crooked smile, "I like them." She giggled.

"You gonna keep yours?"

His smile faltered a moment, "I don't know..." She laughed suddenly, before he could finish the thought.

"Oh, man. I changed my mind. I want to see Tony's face when he finds out about _that_!" Steve rolled his eyes at her before she continued, "But you totally should. Never thought I'd find myself attracted to piercings, of all things. It's a good look. It kind of messes up the all-american, boy next door thing you've got going on. Very hot." She nodded.

"Alright then."

"Awesome! Seriously, though, let me know when Tony finds out. I want to have JARVIS print out a screencap of his face. It's going to be amazing."

"Darcy," Steve said in a low voice, all amusement and faux disapproval.

"It's about time we get one up o the guy. He's such a little hellion when he comes by Jane's lab!"

Steve laughed again and flopped backwards onto the bed, bringing Darcy with him but shifting her so he was laying in the crook of his arm, head on his shoulder. They lay there like that, Steve playing with Darcy's hair and Darcy running her hand along his bare skin. After a few minutes of silence, of just enjoying the press of one warm body to another, Steve spoke up.

"Maybe Thor's idea of refreshments isn't so bad afterall."

Darcy smiled and a thought popped into her head.

"I still want a kiss from Captain America, you know. Do you have the uniform here? I'm totally game for it right now."

"Darcy." There was that tone again. Already setting the tone for the relationship, she could see.

"I'm serious. Have you seen your ass in that thing? If I wasn't so lazy I would build a shrine."

* * *

A few weeks later, Steve was changing his shirt in the locker room of the tower's main gym.

"Holy shit. What is that?" Tony's voice, already loud, echoed around them.

Steve looked up and saw him pointing to his chest. Oh.

"Is this a trick question?" He continued putting things into his bag as he addressed the smaller man, glancing over to get a better look at Tony's face. The expression could best be described as gobsmacked. He opened and closed his mouth twice as Steve relished the moment. It wasn't often that Tony was rendered speechless.

"But why?"

"I was told it was 'hot'."

"By who?"

Steve thought about how to answer that. He thought of thick brown hair splayed across his pillows, lit by moonlight. He thought of the soft, sweat-slicked skin sliding like silk against his own, of the laughter and soft sighs given to him like a gift in the middle of the night. The private sounds that were for his ears and for his ears alone. He thought of the feeling of home that had shocked him to his core the first time he woke up to sleepy eyes looking at him like he was the center of the universe.

Steve smiled and grabbed his bag.

"By the matching set."

He ignored Tony's sputtering and left the locker room, making his way to the garage and hopping on his bike, ready to head home.

But not before he asked JARVIS to e-mail the photo to Darcy.


End file.
